


Fallen Hero Drabbles & Bits

by OrtegaTrash (Malicei)



Series: Fallen Hero Fics [1]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: Aftermath of trauma, Alternate Universe - Twins, Anger, Angst, Arguing, Bad Communication, Body Horror, Death, Doomed Relationship, Drabbles, Fluff, Gen, Growing Old Together, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Multi, Pining, body theft, chargestep - Freeform, double trouble, dying, good dog, mind rewriting, peaceful moment, the diner scene, unwanted mental intrusion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2019-11-28 13:35:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 7,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18208988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malicei/pseuds/OrtegaTrash
Summary: This is where I put my things that are too small for a proper piece.





	1. Double Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ortega twins are a menace.

Why do you not flee in terror as soon as Julia glances your way in the diner.

Sure, they’d both be merciless in trying to hunt you down. But anything would be better than this.

 _This,_ being the pair of wicked grins that turn to shock that turn to hope pointed your way. Oh boy.

They’re not actually identical - you know there’s a least one major difference between the two, being, you know,  _gender_  - but the way they look and act you’d be forgiven for making the mistake. There’s no words spoken aloud between them, a single glance and they both fall into position, and old and extremely effective strategy perfected against you over many years.

“Where have you  _been_?!” both Ricardo and Julia burst out in synchronisation. “We thought you were dead!”

What have you gotten yourself into.

“I- it’s hard to explain.”

“It’s okay-” Ricardo says, sliding into the seat on your right.

“-We have time.” Julia finishes by covering your only means of escape on the left. With your back to the wall, this position has become extremely dangerous all of a sudden, you’re surrounded and you begin frantically formulating plans on how to make a sliding dash forward on the table without getting cake on your top.

The Ortega twins have struck again.


	2. Sometimes the Bravest Thing is Living

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ortega makes you want to live.

You would die for Ortega. Then again, you never put much stock in your life. You would die willingly for a lot of things, the promise of oblivion has always called out to you.

No. Maybe it’s more accurate to say you would _live_  for Ortega. He makes you happy with his insufferable smiles, he makes you want to tease his stupid face, complain about his meddling while feeling a warm glow all the while.

He makes you want a  _future_. A future by his side, filled with shared grins and soft words.

 But that- That’s something you’ll never have. So you live this lie and you curse the world for being so cruel, that the lies are all you have and even they are going to fall apart one day and where does that leave  _you?_


	3. No Way Out But Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you’re going to fall, might as well drag Ortega down with you.

He’s afraid.

He’s afraid of losing you.

This is your fault. You had time, time to cut this off by severing this connection between you. It would have been kinder, more merciful than dragging this out. If you cared about him, you should have made the hard decision for him no matter how bittersweet it was.

But you do care. You care too, too much and that’s the problem.  You’ve felt trapped in this bubble for so long you don’t really remember how it feels to be like a person anymore. To connect. Were you ever even a person, or was that just another delusion of yours?

And Ortega…

Ortega is that lifeline to you, like it or not. He makes you feel like you’re not just biding your time, waiting for you inevitable demise as you fall into the depths.

You keep-

You keep falling.

You keep falling and you can’t stop. How do you stop gravity?

You can’t.

But Ortega is the only ray of light you can see and you hate the fact you even think that because it makes you sound like some love-struck idiot…but maybe that’s what you are.

Are you. Are you really going to drag Ortega plummeting down into the darkness with you? You’ve set him up for heart-

.

No.

Not that.  Don’t think about that. No.

Ortega… thinks himself safely crossing a bridge over a chasm. Little does he know the foundations are rotten and there’s no way to go but down.

(You are so, so selfish.)


	4. You are dying and you know it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your death wouldn't matter to you, except it matters to Ortega.

You are dying.

You are dying and you know it.

It wouldn’t matter to you, shouldn’t matter to you - you were always glad to embrace death’s arms, had always known how disposable you were -  except Ortega is here and it matters to _him._

“H-hey,” you whisper, throat dry. “Don’t cry.”

“Of course I’m crying,” he sobs. “Look at you!”

The world is growing cold and blurry and you’d lift up your head to look except it feels so heavy. Everything smells like iron, tastes like iron when he takes his lips in his and he kisses you with such desperation you wonder if he’s trying to give you the kiss of life.

So selfish. You shouldn’t have fallen in love with him, shouldn’t have reopened old, scarred over wounds and given him hope. This is all his worst fears and nightmares come true and it’s all your fault.

He gave you his heart; so precious, so warm, so alive. A second chance despite the hurt, an old, shaky dance of better days and better memories and younger, more naïve people. Less cynical. Less burdened with old memories and old pains and that wary love that comes from being loved and being hurt.

And what did you do?

You’ve given him heartbreak all over again.

There’s no getting back up from having this many bones shattered in your body - you’re not as young and fit as you used to be, there will be no bouncing back up from this. You know this.

Ortega knows this too.

“I’m sorry.” you say. The words aren’t enough, you’ll never have enough words to encapsulate the full breadth of what you want to say to Ortega. A lifetime’s worth of unspoken regrets, fears, joys and love.

Now they’ll never be said. You would never have enough time because you are greedy, so greedy and selfish that you wanted to have a whole lifetime spent at his side. You wasted so much time, the both of you, dancing around what you really wanted and thinking this would always be here and now…

Now there’s only time for regrets.

“No, no, no, no,” he begs, because his heart refuses to accept what his mind already knows. “Please, you can’t, you can’t leave me-”  _Not again._  He chokes up, unable to continue.

You don’t need to be able to read his mind to hear the things he doesn’t say.

Gently, softly, you stroke his cheek, still wet and trembling. Tell him: “It’s  _okay,_ Ricardo.” and mean it, because you love him and all you’ve ever done was hurt the people you love and he deserves better. You never deserved him - but he chose you for some strange, inexplicable reason.

You’re selfish enough to be happy about it.

“Forget me.” You tell him, as the world grows dark, because he needs to leave this broken shell that is you behind. “Be happy.”

“D-didn’t I already try and fail at that?” He’s half sobbing, half laughing through his tears. Because he just doesn’t know what else to do. “I wasn’t happy. I could never forget you. And I… I could never stop loving you.”

You’re dying and it hurts, it hurts so bad. So why can’t you can’t stop smiling?

“Hey- please, no, don’t go to sleep, please,  _please!_ ”

So, so tired. You don’t ever remember not being tired deep down in your soul anymore. Haven’t you earnt your rest? 

“Please- just a little longer, the paramedics are here-”

Sometimes, there’s just not enough time. You wasted so much of yours. Your only regret is not stealing back every second you wasted and spending it all on Ortega.

“Goodbye.” you whisper, struggling to get the words out, your tongue half numb and clumsy.  Your last breath will not be wasted.

“Don’t- don’t _leave_  me!”

You were never supposed to stay. Never supposed to live, have a life. You were always living on borrowed time and it looks like everything finally caught up to you.

“I love you.” you tell him, and break his heart one last time.


	5. A Spoonful of Peace at a Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spoon is a good boy and sometimes you just need to take a break.

Dogs don’t care that you’re broken. Dogs don’t care if you’re a bad person who’s done bad things.

They don’t even care if you’re not human.

The slobber all over your face is a testament to that, Chen sternly trying to get Spoon to behave and assuring you he’s not as bad as a dog trainer as it might seem at first.

“He really should know better.” Chen sighs. “Looks like I’m going to have to go back and reinforce his training.”

“It’s okay.” you tell him. Because it is. Because that’s been one of friendliest contacts with another living being you’ve had in a long, long time. You don’t mind the doggy breath or the spit all over the place, because you know what it means.

Spoon…Spoon actually likes you. His emotions are so pure, so unrestrained - he doesn’t hold back from loving people with all his heart, doesn’t hold back from showing them his love. It makes you smile.

All Spoon cares about is what’s happening here and now. It’s an important thing you should keep in mind more often, sometimes you get so lost in the drama that is your life you forget to take a moment just to breathe. Relax.

Remember that you’re a person now and you can allow yourself to relax.

It’s hard to remember sometimes, what with all your lofty goals and secret life all crammed into that skull of yours. You know how easy it can be to lose touch. To lose sight of the little things. Sometimes you feel you’re balancing over a precocious ravine, just daring yourself to fall (and keep on  _fall, fall, falling._ )

Spoon nudges his snout into your hand and looks up at you with his big, guileless eyes. Absently you rub him behind the ears and watch as his eyes shut in pure pleasure. For Spoon, all he cares about right now is his moment. Living his life. Enjoying all the ear scratches he can get.

“You’re a good boy.” you tell him, because he is.

“Don’t reward him for his bad behaviour.” Chen makes a point of huffing - although that was  _definitely_  a smile twitching on his lips while he watches the two of you.

Spoon just wags his tail, banging it against Chen’s prosthetic leg with a tinny  _Thump! Thump Thump!_  each time. Eyebrow raised, Chen finally gives in and pets Spoon too.

Huh. Even Chen isn’t resistant to Spoon’s puppy dog eyes, it seems.

The background chatter and noise of the dog park has become white noise. It’s something to distract you from the darkness that creeps in when you’re left alone to your own thoughts. You definitely don’t want that, thinking too much is dangerous. Better to keep your mind occupied at all times so you don’t have to deal with the reality of the situation.

Maybe your life is a mess. Maybe everything is going to fall down like dominoes around you.

Right now you’re just enjoying the peace while it lasts.


	6. Two Idiots in Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More chargestep fluff.

Ortega watches you sometimes when you’re not looking. Sometimes you catch him in the act, completely startled, because he’s the only one who’s ever really been able to sneak up on you.

There’s something very soft in his eyes. Something very indulgent in that little smile before it transforms into a more typical grin, before he lights up into his normal stupid chatty self. But those glimpses. It makes you  _wonder._

You wonder and wonder and wonder even as he takes your lips, kisses all your worries away. Makes you look into those deep, dark eyes and remember falling. You’re falling into the abyss that will be your doom and you’re too selfish to go down alone.

And yet.

He makes you feel alive in these moments. The pain, the misery, the suffering…it all reminds you that you’re alive.  No matter how much you hate it. There are things you must do, plans to be done and people to hurt in the way of things. Sometimes you don’t know why you even bother getting up in the morning. You dread it all and yet…you can’t stop.

But him?

He gives you something worth living for.

“You’ve got that look on your face again.” Ortega mumbles, smiling. “Thinking hard?”

 _Ha._  “As opposed to not thinking at all, like you?” you tease back.

“Ouch, I’m wounded.” he laughs, clutching his heart dramatically and you feel your smile falling because that’s right. You have wounded him already. His body, his mind…his heart.

_Your fault._

“H-hey? It was just a joke, I’ve healed up since last time?” Ortega prompts. Your face must be obvious because you can see the growing concern that comes over his.

“You should take better care of yourself, you know.” you tell him, because it’s better than confronting your demons. “You’re getting old and I won’t always be there to guard your back.”

It softens him, the way he grips your hand and traces over your scars. Brings your knuckles up to his lips and kisses them one by one. As if they could disappear away the hurt.

It doesn’t work like that but you appreciate the gesture.

“I know.” he says, insufferably understanding. You’re not sure if you’re ready for how real this feels, how you wish you could vanish back under the safe cloak of insults and banter that hide away any genuine emotions behind barbed words. “And I thought you never would be here again.”

It makes you defensive, want to raise your spines up like some sort of hedgehog and curl into a ball. “Well, I’m here now, aren’t I?”

The idiot never did care about the fact that poking you would just get him hurt. “And I’m thankful for that every day.”

Shit! That…that damn romantic sap! How are you even supposed to respond to that, when he looks at you with such reverence in his eyes, when he breathes out your name like all his prayers have been answered? “You’re such an idiot.”

“I know,”  _-and oh, that stupid shit-eating grin-_  “but I’m your idiot, aren’t I?”


	7. Woof woof I am Spoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wei makes Spoon happy. Spoon thinks Wei needs to be happy too.

You are Spoon.

Spoon is a good boy. You are a good boy. You know this because Wei tells you this all the time - sometimes he says it out loud, sometimes he says it with his body. You don’t need him to say it because you know he’s always saying it in his heart.

But you like hearing it anyway.

Now you get to run, run, run and nobody’s telling you that you have to anymore. You do it just because you want to. Just because it makes you happy.

Happy is good. Today you are happy, because you are loved and you love Wei and you have so many friends you just want to share all the happiness with the people you love.

Sometimes Wei is sad and hurts and you try to lick away the pain; there aren’t always wounds but you lick anyway. Maybe if you lick hard enough you can lick the wounds inside. You can smell the hurt, hear his heart racing like it’s being chased without the choice of stopping.

When you cuddle up on him and lick his face, his heart slows down again. He knows he doesn’t have to run away because of others anymore, he can just be slow and lazy with on the couch, watching TV together. He’s done so much for you, that’s why he deserves to have just as much happiness too.

So you run and jump and chase your tail, you nibble his shoelaces and lick his face even when he groans and scolds you. You bring him your favourite toys covered in your doggy kisses and drop them willingly in his lap. Because you know it makes him feel a little better watching you. You know he loses that tension he holds so deeply in his muscles, like he always has to be hyperaware of any threats even when there’s nothing there - you would know if there were, you always watch over him when you’re around. Anyone wanting to hurt him would have to go through you, and you’d fight to the death for this man who gave you a life.

He thinks he doesn’t need anyone but he’s still lonely. You try your best but, well…there’s some things only another human can give him. So you run up to strangers and dance around them, get Wei to apologise for you and start chatting. Only the nice people, of course, you can always sniff them out - and it helps when they give you pets and treats~

You may just be a dog but that’s never stopped you from being the very bestest dog you can be.


	8. All Things Must Come to an End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Major character death, dying of old age

“He’s in ER, we moved him this morning.”

“…Thank you,” you tell the nurse. You already knew that, but it’s not like she could have known. She’s just trying to help you, she’s seen enough of you over the years and she thinks it’s terribly sweet that you visit every day you can.

She pauses for a second and then adds, more kindly, “He’s been asking after you, you know. I’d go quickly if I were you.”

Your throat feels too tight to speak, but you give a stiff nod at her before hurrying over.

The thing about being modded is that although the artificial parts can be cycled in and out and replaced when they wear down, the body is not quite as lucky. After a while even the healthiest and most cared for of bodies will break down.

Ricardo was never one to keep out of harm’s way, flinging himself into its path. That’s how he ended up getting modded after all - that’s how they got their hands into him. How even now his spine bears trademarks and expensive sponsorships that have long since been withdrawn.

“Hey ol-” You cut yourself off and quickly stumble to cover it up with a cough and “…Hey.” Neither of you quite wince at your slip up. Because it’s true, isn’t it?

He’s getting old.

You see him wincing when it rains and his knees act up. You see the way his smile seems more distant, lost, when the painkillers aren’t doing quite enough. All those years of abusing them for the pain have given him an inhumanly high tolerance to the point they barely do anything anymore. You’re the one who has to hold his hand and pretend it’s just because he’s so needy for your affection and not because he has trouble standing up anymore.

His smiles have never quite disappeared, but the burning fire that used to be his spirit has dwindled down into a warm smolder. Embers of a memory of happier times. The fingers interlocking yours are gnarled and calloused, worn with the history of a life lived to the fullest.

Those fingers squeeze yours now.

“…You know you don’t have to pretend for my sake,” he tells you, quiet. “Call me old man if you want.”

It’s funny how life turns things around on you. “You’re not that old…” you protest weakly, looking away from those knowing eyes. Still so warm. So affectionate, crows feet crinkling up at the corners and laughter lines painting themselves as his smiles gently at you.

A little huff. “Yes, yes I am,” he tells you. “It’s okay, you know.”

You…you are not tearing up. You are not tearing up at this idiot who you’ve had so little time with, had so many years together robbed from you by life (and ‘death’). You are not tearing up because even eternity would not be enough for you, you who selfishly want to keep him by your side forever.

His salt-and-pepper stubble is scratchy against your face as he kisses you. You shut your eyes tightly, trying to will the tears away. Hoping that if you shut your eyes everything will be like you were younger again. Wasn’t it just yesterday you were both young and foolish and in love?

Now you are old and foolish and in love.

“You promised me you wouldn’t leave again,” you whisper, and you absolutely despise how fragile you sound. Despise how fragile he looks, how pale and paper-thin his skin is. Despise how much you love this stupid, brilliant man and how you don’t know what to do with yourself without him.

“I did, didn’t I?” A weak chuckle.

“You’re such a liar,” you tell him, trying and failing to keep your voice steady. You are not weeping.  _This is not fair._

“I am, aren’t I?” The way he smiles so fondly at you is just cruel. “It seems like I’m just leaving broken promises all over the place.”

_No. No, don’t tell me…_

He shuts his eyes, breath unsteady. “Lo siento, mi amor. I don’t think I have much more time…”

“No, Ricardo, don’t be such an idiot!” You’re probably crushing his hand right now but you can’t help it. “Don’t say such things when they’re not true, we still have to see the grand canyon and visit the old hero museum again, and, and…” You’re sniffing and crying too much to be making much sense.

He very gently tries to wriggle his gingers out of your iron clasp with only the barest wince. “I’m sure the others wouldn’t mind taking a holiday…”

You capture his traitorous fingers again, suddenly afraid you might not have another chance. This time you make sure to loosen your grasp. “But I want  _you_ ,” you tell him, voice trembling. “I only want  _you_ , we can go when you'get better again and, and, and then we can go together like you promised…”

Ricardo’s eyes are unfocussed, looking at you and yet seemingly looking beyond you. “You know I can’t, not anymore.” At your silence he lets his eyes sharpen again and reaches up to cradle your face. “Hey. It’s  _okay._   _You will be okay._  I always knew this day would come, I just thought I’d die doing something stupid and dangerous instead of with someone I love after having live a long full life.” His smile is a little pained, but accepting. Trying to be strong.

For  _you._

It takes monumental willpower to keep your mental shields strong, you can’t break down, not now, not here. You don’t need to re-enact a Heartbreak event.  "You…why do you have to be such an idiot!“ you cry out, because you always knew he would break your heart. "Doing this to me…”

The kiss he gives you is all too short. Full of love and apologies and you kiss back with all the strength you can, trying to covey everything he means to you in one small little action.

It will never be enough.

It will never be enough when he passes away in your arms and breaks your heart for the final time.


	9. Stolen Time.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A follow-up to the previous chapter.
> 
> Warnings: Major character death (?), body theft

You.

You just couldn’t deal with it.

Maybe it’s selfish. No, it is  _absolutely_  selfish of you to have done this. Not wanting to be alone.

_You promised you wouldn’t ever leave me again_

Maybe you’re just going insane. Insane with grief. Maybe you’re alone with nothing but a thought-ghost, just like… just like Anathema.

It was simply a theory you came up with, casually chatting things over with Dr Mortum. What the implications of being able to take over someone else’s body was. How exactly did telepathy work? Consciousness? Questions yet to be answered that could revolutionise the face of science’s understanding of existence. As nerve-wracking as it was, you finally consented to sticking your body in an MRI scanner to monitor your brain activity while you took over your puppet.

The results were…unclear. Confusing. Often contradictory, going against all known science at the time. Mortum decided to do some further research but it turned out looking into what papers were published led only to dead ends. Or worse.

You finally realised it might be a touchy subject for some right around the time Mortum got shot. Lucky that the bullet missed anything vital but Mortum took the hint and decided to go into hiding for a few years. Not having access to the labs put a damper on any further investigation on your part and by the time Mortum found the risk acceptable enough to go out in public again you’d mostly had your mind on other things. You always figured you’d have enough time to get around to it together eventually.

‘Eventually’ turned into 'someday’ turned into never. You’ve lost more than a few friends over the long years, an inevitable side effect of the job hazards in your line of work.  People end up in the wrong place at the wrong time. They get lazy, they start slowing down. Sometimes it’s just accidents. Sometimes it’s just bad luck, genetics working against them.

You’re no stranger to death.

_You promised you wouldn’t abandon me again_

Wipe away your tears on the sleeve of your borrowed labcoat. Well, can you really say it’s borrowed when its owner isn’t around to use it anymore? The thought makes you sniff a bit. Mortum wouldn’t mind, you think.

It’s being put to good use. It’s all being put to good use.

* * *

_Mortum peers over the lab results, looking troubled._

_“Something up?”_

_A sigh. “Tell me, do you believe in the existence of a soul?”_

_You blink, you hadn’t expected this line of thinking. “Getting philosophical here, are we?”_

_“Perhaps I am,” Mortum mutters. “But I would say what we are looking into would more than justify a little pensiveness.”_

_“I would have thought you’d be excited to discover what we can about my telepathy.”_

_“I am, it’s not…it’s just. How can I explain this?” Fingers pinching a dark nose bridge.  "I don’t know if we have the current words to explain what we have here, at our fingertips. Not with our current scientific vocabulary.“_

_"You think what we have here is something more similar to…a soul?”_

_“It’s merely a possible hypothesis. I wouldn’t rule out anything completely until we have evidence that directly disproves it.”_

* * *

You don’t have much time.

**_[C  a r   in õ?]_ **

Cellular death in the brain should begin kicking in soon from the lack of oxygen, you need to work quickly. Before it’s too late. Before they take him away. Before decay destroys what is left of…

No, don’t finish that thought.

**_[Pl e a se,   wh  a t …]_ **

The thing about being a telepath is that you understand how truly vulnerable the human mind is. How malleable people’s memories are. Even your own.

Especially your own.

**_[w  ha  t   are y ou-]_ **

_Shut up, idiot. I’m saving you._

It’s so dark inside his mind, you can already feel things breaking down around you. The ever-present electrical storm that has been a constant since you met him has finally died down into the faintest buzz. It barely tingles as you pass through it easily, he trusts you with his life. With his death.

You’ve never done something as monumentous as this before, but you don’t have the luxury of practicing or getting a second chance.

The silence almost makes you more afraid.

_**[I  ]** _

He’s still barely here, hanging on by the barest thread. For you.

_**[I lov eyo u]** _

_I know. I’m sorry._

**_[…?]_ **

Your vital readings are normal, if a little elevated. You might be a tiiiiiny bit stressed out right now.  _Alright. Take a deep breath. Maybe the last one you’ll have as yourself._

Shutting your eyes and diving into your own mind feels like regret. Regret that it came down to this. You only hope that the machine will finish what you’ve just started.

It takes but a moment to let your own body slump to the ground, accompanied only by the sudden beeping of the machines you hooked yourself up to. Only a few seconds to take over the kind nurse who sympathised with you and decided to come investigate the sudden commotion. To swallow down the lump of guilt that threatens to overwhelm you, you didn’t have time to drag your puppet here. You didn’t think it would come without warning…

It’s too late for regrets, now. Now there’s only time to hook yourself up to Mortum’s final, unfinished creation…

An artificial telepath, programmed to reprogram others. Alter their own brain chemistry and memories and hopefully, alter both your mind and the nurses’ to be suitable hosts. Your only hope is that the scanning technology will capture enough of Ricardo’s fading mind to have anything left to work with.

It doesn’t matter if your own mental transfer is interrupted or corrupted.

Everything is dark in the in-between space where you are nothing but pure mental energy. But…no. There is the smallest spark of warmth. Familiarity. Confusion.  _You were right, Mortum._

_Come here, you._

**_[W  ha  t  is  th  is?]_ **

_Just follow me._

Curiosity, but also trust.  _ **[…I’ m  g la d   you'r  e  h ere.]**_ A pause.  _ **[I f thi s is heaven or w hatever co mes after dea th.]**_

I think it’s hell if it’s with you.

 ** _[Hey!]_**  The burst of indignant warmth makes you want to cry.

You lead him to the mental impression of your prone body, feeling him lingering for a moment.

_Go on. I can’t go with you._

**_[Y ou’ll be ok ay?]_ **

_…Just fine, Ricardo._

The spark disappears into your body and you feel yourself growing weaker, struggling to remember where the nurse’s body was. Finding it with a twinge of sorrow, taking the moment to remember what it feels like before you mentally shut the door behind you. You’re not a telepath outside your body.

Opening her eyelids and seeing your body slowly blink awake in confusion. Struggling to heave up off the floor. Eyes widening in shock and disbelief as your own face turns to look at you.

Wistfully, you smile, tears running down from stolen eyes. “I couldn’t bear to be alone.”

“What…what have you  _done_?” It’s a bit strange hearing your own voice breathe it out with such dawning horror, but the expression on your face?

It’s all Ricardo’s.


	10. Aches and Pains.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikael gets quiet and reflective.

_Know,_

_Know them inside and out, stare at them as they hand you the tools to destroy them_

“Why are you giving this to me?”

“I trust you.” Ortega’s face is too open, smile reflected in the way his eyes crinkle up at the ends. It makes your chest feel too tight, you need to look away.

“Don’t. You shouldn’t.”

You don’t even trust yourself.

* * *

You don’t need friends. Don’t need a family. You do just fine by yourself, you know how to survive, you’ve lived without these things for so long and you’re still here now, aren’t you?

It doesn’t stop you from aching for them, though.

* * *

You are living out your own nightmares. Hurting the ones you love. Seeing yourself become like them.

Ricardo’s fingers intertwine in yours, questions laying on his tongue that go unreleased. Softening at the way your face screws up in pain, the way you look away too quickly. “Is this too much?”

His words only dig themselves in with their innocence, thorns underneath your skin. How can you tell him the reason why you’re trying to blink away the wetness in your eyes is because of… of yourself? He’s entrapped in your tangled web of lies and he can’t even see the way he’s bleeding for it.

“It’s fine.” You can’t stop lying.

The soft touch on your cheek hurts more with its kindness than any assault on your body.

A fool.

Now, are you speaking about Ortega or yourself?

Maybe the both of you for clutching to each other so tightly, the shared moments of peace so precious between you. You can’t help the tenseness in your shoulders or the way your brow is more furrowed than not nowadays. This…this all feels like a momentary lull, the calm before the storm.

It makes your dreams strange when you have them. You dream of the crackle of electricity aimed at your face and cold, cold eyes that no longer recognise you. Of being brought to your knees in the chaos of it all, half drowned in the rain and mud. Of resigning yourself to your fate with a broken smile as Charge stands above you like a true god of lightning, casting judgement upon you.

The end is always the same: with a hand stretched out towards your heart as the resultant flash lights his face up in all its uncaring fury.

* * *

No one is coming to save you.

There is no one lying beside you at night when you choke back muffled sobs in your pillow, mindful of the neighbours. You don’t want to be known as the loser who gets passive aggressive noise complaints for submitting to your weakness.

Boys don’t cry.  _(Aren’t supposed to. You hate the fact they’ve poisoned your mind like this.)_ Stop crying, little girl.  _(You are not little and you are definitely not a girl, no matter what they said.)_

* * *

It makes you feel guilty, sometimes. That your own body isn’t good enough for you.

_(You just want to feel *real*. Maybe that’s fucked up, that you will never feel comfortable in your own body. That you think everyone else except you is real and you’re the only one faking it all.)_

Eden’s smile is a bit too close to yours for comfort. Maybe that’s why Ortega likes him so much - people are drawn to the familiar, they have a tendency to repeat the patterns that have followed them through life. And it seems that hasn’t changed at least, the way you can still sweep him off his feet both physically and emotionally.

But there’s one crucial difference, isn’t there?

Eden’s smiles are  _happy_.

No burdens. No bone deep aches and pains that wrack this young body made right the first time at production. No knees that ache when it rains or twinge when you go up the stairs. You don’t need to hide the pain you feel standing still for too long if there *is* no pain. And maybe you’re running your own body into the ground - but you don’t care. You never even expected to make it to thirty, you had always expected them to have slapped on an expiry date on you once you outlived your use.

Sometimes you wonder if it would have just been easier to puppeteer Eden permanently and do just the bare minimum to keep your own body alive. But, well. You were always too afraid of making the leap.

Change has always been terrifying.

_(Maybe you’ve just gotten too caught up in living in the past and not truly living.)_


	11. Waking Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened to Argent after the rampage?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Aftermath of unwanted traumatic telepathic intrusion compared to dub/noncon, mentions of victim blaming.

“Angie. Are you sure you’re alright?” Ricardo’s voice is well-meaning, but it just cuts through all the harder.

No.  _No, you aren’t._

How could you be alright when someone’s come into the one thing that was purely yours and trashed it? It’s like someone’s broken into your house while you aren’t there and gone through everything. Sat in your chairs and raided the fridge and left the photo frames smashed on the ground, tainted by the touch.

You don’t know what they’ve seen. What they’ve done. What they’ve taken.

_(Why did they get in your mind?)_

How could you be alright when you keep seeing your own body moving against your will, as if in a dream…

Or a nightmare. A nightmare lived out and blamed for.

“Stop. Asking. Me. That. RICARDO!” It’s not his fault, but you don’t care. You just need to hurt, punch something, take action to make yourself not feel so helpless. You never thought you’d end up feeling so caught off guard by the helplessness like this, not after you became a hero. It’s a lot better when you can use your claws do the talking and crush a problem under your fingers.

_(Why?)_

You want them to hurt. You want to bring your hands around their neck and scream, demanding answers from them.

_(Why you? Why do this?)_

You want to rip them apart, make them understand how it feels to have your control taken away, having the violation of the most intimate parts of your soul seen without permission. Want to shred them for taking away your sense of security, for making you feel like even the most base, essential parts of you aren’t safe from them. It makes you wonder darkly when you fall to sleep if you’ll wake up swinging again to everyone staring accusingly at you for what you’ve done.

~~_How can you feel safe in your own body again?_ ~~

Screw them. They care more about their big stories and making assumptions rather than actually getting themselves involved in any real journalism.

So instead you analyse your fight scene together frame by frame, trying to study the way they work. Trying to prepare yourself against them so they’ll never get the upper hand on you again.

_(Why you?)_

_(Why?)_

_**(Why?!)** _

No one sees you break down in the dark.


	12. Like Talking to a Brick Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikael and Steel have an argument over him not subjecting himself to the background check. Pre-heartbreak, gen.

“What do you have to hide?”

Direct as usual, Steel. You resent him for it, for making you feel so exposed and raw under his accusations. For always treating you like you’re guilty without even having a fair trial.

What even are you guilty of, in those accusing eyes of his?

Existing?

It wouldn’t be the first time. The reminder just churns up feelings not unlike soured milk in your stomach. Your very existence is an affront to people, you know they would not be so kind if they ever knew what was hiding under the clothes you disguise yourself from the world with.

You’ve had too much experience with being looked at like a object of disdain. Not good enough to be human. Not good enough to pass their standards.

Those glares still haunt you sometimes. It makes you hate that you have a body to be perceived by others with.

But Steel  _won’t stop looking at you,_  like he’s trying to get in your head and dissect everything you are under his scalpel sharp mind.

So you just bury your head. Bury your head and grit your teeth and try not to outright snarl at Steel. You don’t need him to think you’ve got an anger problem on top of everything, too. “It’s none of your goddamn business if I don’t want to go through a background check, Steel.”

He sets his jaw, unconvinced. “It became my business when you started getting close to the Rangers,” he lectures, because of course he does. “I need to know of any potential danger to the team.”

You can’t help the sudden intake of breath. “I am  _not_ a fucking danger to the team!” you protest, genuine anger filling your voice. “How  _dare_ you? I’ve only ever helped! I’m still a hero, no matter what you say! I’ve had Ricardo’s back through thick and thin, isn’t his trust in me enough for you?!”

His lips press into a thin line and for a second there he looks almost  _guilty._  But then his face hardens again and you know, you just  _know_  he’s going to twist the knife in. “Ricardo’s a smart man,” he admits, grudgingly. “But he’s too sentimental. He’s too blinded by his feelings for you to be objective.”

“Don’t you  _dare_  bring his feelings into this!” You don’t even want to think about it. Whatever you have between you. Whatever guilty feelings you allow yourself to indulge in around him.

The way he keeps looking at you greedily, wanting more than you can give him, no matter how much you want it.

“You were the one who brought it up,” he points out, eyes hard. Mind shut off as tightly as Fort Knox. “You know it’s true. You’re his blind spot and that means you’re a weakness he has no defence against.”

You _flinch._

That…

That is a low blow and even he knows it, by the look on his face.

You hate that you can see where he’s coming from. You hate that you can see how suspicious you are, how he feels like he just wants to defend his team and best friend from  _you_ , the potential danger. That doesn’t mean you have to  _like_  it.

So instead you deflect and ask: “Why do you even hate me so much? What did I ever do to you?”

“I don’t  _hate_  you-”

The laughter that bubbles out of your throat is so bitter you don’t even recognise it as your own at first. Bitter and tired and completely done with this conversation. “Well. You’re sure doing a good job at pretending to,” you scoff. “Just leave me alone, would you?”

“Mikael, I-” He looks almost regretful, hand running through his hair in frustration.

 _“Please,”_  you hiss out. Or at least you like to think you do. Even you can tell it sounds frustratingly desperate, you despise the way he always reduces you to this. "I don’t want to think about this anymore.”

_Who are you trying to beg, him or yourself?_

His mouth is still open, caught in wanting to say something and hesitating in the look in your eyes like a cornered animal. Still just  _looking_  at you.

Always, always judging you. Taking your measure and finding you lacking.

“Stop it, Steel.”

He blinks, caught by surprise. “Stop…what?”

“Stop  _looking_  at me like that!” You’re aware of how humiliatingly hysterical you sound, but your barriers are down and everything is too, too much.

“Like…what?” His face radiates confusion. Confusion, and…

_Concern?_

You shake your head, too caught up in the mess that is your feelings to unravel  _that_ little revelation. Bury your face between your hands. “Just…go away, Steel.”

If you can’t see him, it’ll be like he doesn’t exist. And then maybe you can pretend you’re alone in here and not with someone who’s been treating you like an enemy from the start.

But you’re too vigilant to be able to ignore your surroundings, not fully, and so you hear his soft breathing, the rustle of his sleeve as he makes to reach for you before he thinks better of it. Something in your tone of voice and the way you’ve been acting making even him find you too pitiful to actually deal with. Something that makes him turn around and walk away.

You wish you could walk away from all your problems so easily like that. But no matter how much you’ve tried, you’ve never been able to run away from yourself.

You absolutely resent him for being able to do so.


	13. Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ortega visits you in prison.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” You don’t bother looking up. Something about meeting Ortega’s eyes would make it all the more real for you.

The footsteps approach ever closer until they can’t, the bars a physical and metaphorical barrier between you both. He’s not supposed to be this close, visitors are supposed to only be able to access the visitation rooms.

You’re not being allowed visitors. Too dangerous, they said, but when has anything like that ever stopped anyone as stubborn as Ortega?

“I didn’t take you for the sort to pull a few strings to see me.” You sound as tired as you feel.

You like to imagine there’s a sad smile pulling at his face. “Well,” he mutters, somewhat sheepishly, “This was important. I wanted to see you.”

“Consider myself seen.”

An intake of breath. Then, softly: “Don’t be like that. Look, I can help you with lawyers, I have my own ones not associated with the team and I’m sure if you cooperate they’ll go easy on the sentencing-”

_“You always do this.”_

He pauses, taken aback. “Do…what, exactly? I’m just trying to  _help_ you, since…since you’ve been acting like you don’t even want to help yourself!”

Your smile is not a happy thing. “Maybe that’s the point. Maybe I don’t want to be helped, Ricardo-”

“What do you  _mean,_  don’t want to be helped-”

“-and not everyone can be saved, you know.”

He falls utterly silent at that, though you can see his fingers twitching to form into a fist. “Why do you have to be like this?” he whispers, and you hate the way he’s begging you for something you will never be able to give him. “You can’t…they’re talking about the death penalty! And I’m supposed to be a hero,  _saving people is what I do!_ ” It sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself of that with the way his voice falters. “So please…please just let me save  _you._ ”

You don’t like any of this… but it’s not like you could say you didn’t know the consequences of your actions. You’re not a child, despite how much Ortega wants to coddle you in protecting you from the fallout of the inevitable.

It would be kinder to end this now. End this, because you’d already been selfish enough in allowing yourself a friendship based on a lie all these years. End this, because you should have turned your back to him and pretended you didn’t want anything to do with him for your shared safety. For all the years of grins you’ve shared between the both of you as you fight side by side.

You can’t sidestep this matter any longer.

So you let your voice go cold as you stare at the slippers they provided you with, because you wouldn’t be able to do this if you had to look him in the eye. Pretend you see the way he’s trembling like a leaf in the wind, pretend that you don’t see the tear falling to the concrete in front of you.

You were always good at pretending. That’s what they made you for.

“Ricardo,” you tell him, gentle in the way of a parent telling their child one of the harsh truths of the world. “You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved. You can’t redeem someone who doesn’t want to be a better person. It’s time for you to let me go.”

_Let me fall._

“But-”

“SECURITY!” You scream. “THIS GUY’S BROKEN IN TO MURDER ME, HE’S NOT SUPPOSE TO BE IN HERE! SECURITY!”

You don’t feel any better when they carry him away for questioning. Not when he keeps protesting and glancing back at you, desperately trying to make you meet his eyes.

It was always going to end like this.


End file.
